


i have written you down (now you will live forever)

by forgiveness_in_eurydice



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgiveness_in_eurydice/pseuds/forgiveness_in_eurydice
Summary: A collection of poems for various Dimension 20 campaigns, characters, and relationships.
Relationships: Ayda Aguefort/Figueroth Faeth, Kingston Brown & Pete the Plug
Kudos: 7





	1. to burn (fig/ayda)

**Author's Note:**

> -Title from "Poet" by Bastille  
> -This will be updated as I write more poems!

_After Mark Strand_

Not everyone knows what it is like to burn.

It’s not often that you find another pair of molten hands, open palms waiting to ignite

and intertwine with yours, red-hot, in the trees,

or a pair of lips that will not singe when met with yours.

When, in the past, you have surrendered to time’s embrace,

you have known, at the end, that there will be loneliness on the other side of the ashes.

Solitude is cyclical, always finding its way back into your too-hot grasp.

This time, the cycle is broken by horns and flameproof fingers, and

when you are no more than ash, and when you are reborn in blinding light,

she will remember you, and your lips, and she will sing for you.

Not everyone knows what it is like to burn,

and not everyone has known a love like this.


	2. night and day (kingston & pete)

The night belongs to no one.

Stars were made to slip from grasping fingers

and scatter recklessly across the sky.

No one has managed to grasp a fistful of the dark—

or, maybe, no one has tried.

The night belongs to no one,

not even himself,

and the night—the man—the boy—

hurtles, dreamlike, through the winter air

and tries desperately not to land.

The day belongs to everyone.

Sunlight should be shared—

woven through a mother’s hands,

threaded between a child’s grinning teeth.

Selflessness becomes pavement

becomes a city, all grime and gleam,

and the day—the nurse—the man—

gives of himself

and the pavement

again and again.

The night and the day belong to each other.

All these years, sun and stars have warred with each other,

light shifting in oil-and-water discord—but now, 

order finds a home in chaos.

Now, the night finds purchase, and stability,

and maybe—almost—a father.

The day finds closeness, and life,

and maybe—almost—a son.

An apology, a soul tugged back into life,

and the city knits itself together at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on twitter (@phantasmapopuli)! I also do writing commissions, so feel free to dm/comment if you're interested!


End file.
